Page 16 of The Rivaled Crown (The Veiled Kingdom #3)

CHAPTER 16

VERENA

T he air felt different here.

Heavy.

Every breath I took pressed against my ribs like an invasive weight, a reminder of the expectations that now rested upon me.

The rebellion had allowed me to stay, but I wasn’t safe.

Not from the whispers. Not from their eyes, tracking my every movement, waiting for proof that I was exactly what they feared me to be.

A monster.

The word had not been spoken aloud, but I heard it in every murmured conversation that stopped when I entered a room. I saw it in the tension that stiffened their spines whenever I walked past.

I wasn’t one of them, and I never would be.

I would always be a part of my father, a part of the man that they hated, that they fought against.

I was a new monster born of the one they knew.

The realization settled deep in my chest, curling cold fingers around my lungs as I stood in the training room, a place that had become my constant since returning to the hidden kingdom only days ago.

A single torch flickered at the edge of the space, illuminating Kai’s sharp features as he stood before me. His expression was unreadable, but his posture was relaxed, hands clasped behind his back as he observed me.

To my right, Dacre’s grandmother sat on a smooth, flat stone. She was calmer than I had expected, her presence deceptively quiet. But there was something unshakable about her. A force.

A strength that had nothing to do with her small, frail size.

“Again,” she said.

I exhaled, forcing my focus back to the task at hand.

The stone in front of me was small, barely the size of my palm. It was an easy target. Lifeless. Safe. I reached for it, or at least, I tried.

The magic in my veins flickered, twisted, resisted. It wanted more. Not a stone. Not something that had nothing to give.

A sharp pulse slammed into my ribs, and I gasped as I fought to reel it back.

“No,”Dacre’s grandmother murmured, watching me closely as she gently shook her head. “Focus on the stone.”

A shudder ran through me, my irritation building. “My magic doesn’t want the stone,” I bit out.

She said nothing, just continued to watch me, and my stomach turned as I pulled my gaze away from her and pushed against the force inside me, urging it toward the object, forcing it to take.

A spark of energy jumped from the rock. A flicker. Then, nothing.

My knees trembled, threatening to buckle, but I pressed my hand against the cave wall before they could.

“You’re pushing too hard,” Kai said, his voice steady, even. “You need to feel your magic, let it settle inside you. You can’t force it.”

I clenched my jaw, wiping a thin layer of sweat from my forehead. “It doesn’t want to take from things that don’t have life.”

Dacre’s grandmother hummed in agreement. “That’s because it isn’t what it was meant to do.”

“Then why try?” I argued, every bit of my frustration evident. “Why waste our time?”

“Because you must learn control.”

The answer was simple, brutal, and I hated it.

My fists clenched at my sides, while I tried to force down the biting remarks on the edge of my tongue. I was trying. But they didn’t understand what it was like to have spent a lifetime believing you were powerless, only to discover you had the capacity to hold more power than you ever wanted.

To hold a power that you wish you didn’t have at all.

A power that stole.

I could feel that very power moving inside me, and a muscle jumped in my jaw. “I can’t do this.”

“You can,” Dacre’s grandmother answered immediately. “You just don’t want to.”

I lifted my gaze to hers. She didn’t flinch, didn’t soften.

“I want to control it,” I whispered, and I could feel my blood rushing to my face, could hear it in my ears. “Of course I do.”

“No.” She shook her head, but her silver eyes didn’t leave me. “You want it to go away.”

The words punched through me like a blade, my magic coiled inside me, watching her, and I turned, desperate to stop the feel of it inside me.

The training had taken its toll. I had already given too much today, and my body and mind were paying the price.

Fatigue enveloped me, and I didn’t know how much more I could take before I lost control, before I did something I would regret.

“Verena.” Wren’s voice had me snapping my head up to look at her.

I hadn’t even heard her come in.

She stood at the entrance, arms crossed over her chest, watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite decipher. Not pity. Not fear. Something else.

I exhaled sharply. “I need air.”

She didn’t try to stop me as I pushed past her, but her footsteps followed. We walked in silence through the shadowed corridors, the stone walls rough and jagged. I wanted to run my hand against them. I wanted to feel the rock dig into my palm, to feel the pain of what it would do to my skin. I wanted to feel anything other than this power.

“You’re doing better than you think.”

I let out a hollow laugh as I pushed stray hair out of my face. “That’s not what it feels like.”

“It never does.” Her words were soft, almost sad, and I looked at her, really looked at her.

She was staring straight ahead, her face carefully neutral, but there was something tight in her posture, something rigid.

It made my chest feel like it was caving in. “I’m sorry. For everything that’s happened.”

Her steps faltered, but she didn’t look at me. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“I do.” I stopped and turned to face her fully, forcing her to meet my gaze.

“I know that I lied to you,” I admitted. “And I know I’m not easy to trust.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, then, finally, she exhaled. “You had to lie to keep yourself safe,” she murmured. “I don’t blame you for that.”

It hit me then what she had seen, what she had watched me take from her brother, and I didn’t blame her for hardly being able to meet my eyes. I could barely stand to look at myself. “And for what I did to your brother.” I looked away from her and bit down on the inside of my cheek. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am for that. If I scared you…”

“Verena, stop.” My name snapped from her lips, and she reached out, her hand wrapping around my bicep. I hated the way I flinched at her touch. I loathed the way I knew she felt it. “I’m not scared of you.”

Her words slammed into my chest, making it difficult to breathe.

“I’m the one who is sorry,” she said hesitantly, and my gaze snapped up to her.

“Wren—”

“I should have known.” Her voice broke. “I am your friend, and I should have known that something wasn’t right. I should have been there for you, so you didn’t feel like you had to leave in the middle of the night alone.”

I shook my head, but she didn’t stop.

“If I had been a better friend…” Her hand on my arm tightened, and I could see her guilt eating at her. “You would have never gone back to your father.”

I flinched, but I couldn’t look away from her eyes, at the way they bored into me. “He would have never been able to touch you, never been able to give you those scars.”

I could practically see the memory in her eyes, the way she had looked upon my back, the way it haunted her.

I reached for her, taking her trembling hands in my own, and Wren blinked as if startled. But she didn’t pull away. Instead, she stared ahead, her jaw tight, her shoulders squared in a way that made her look so young. So broken.

I had spent so much time drowning in my own pain, in my own fear, that I hadn’t stopped to consider how much I had hurt the people who had cared about me.

How much I had hurt her .

“Wren,” I said softly, squeezing her hand, “I made my choices. Not you.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, but she still wouldn’t meet my gaze.

“I should have seen it,” she whispered. “I should have noticed how much you were struggling, how trapped you felt.”

I didn’t answer because we both knew the truth. I had felt trapped. I had struggled, and I had left her behind when I ran.

I had left her, and I had never really stopped to think about what it must have been like for Wren, to wake up and realize I was gone. To be left behind without a word, without an explanation.

“You are my very first friend in this world,” I whispered. “Even when I didn’t realize I needed one.”

Her fingers tightened around mine, and they were the only thing keeping me from drowning.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” I admitted.

She inhaled sharply as she studied my face. “By leaving?”

“After Dacre found out who I really was, after your father did, I thought I had to do it alone. I thought I could…” I broke off, looking down at our hands. “I thought I could make things better if I could get out of this kingdom.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper. “But it made it worse?”

I didn’t answer because we both knew the truth.

Silence stretched between us before Wren let out a slow breath.

“You’re back now,” she said, her voice softer.

I nodded. “I am.”

“Do you regret it? Not making it out of the kingdom?” she asked.

The question hit me like a punch to the ribs.

Yes. I regretted everything.

I regretted leaving Wren behind that night, regretted the lies, the pain, the choices that had led me to my father’s feet. I regretted who I had become in that palace. I regretted what I had done to Dacre, what I had taken from him.

But more than all of that, I regretted that I had failed.

That I had fought so hard to be free, fought to escape, fought to run, and in the end, I had been dragged back and remade into something I didn’t recognize.

Something that took.

Something that I didn’t know how to stop.

I sucked in a sharp breath, my fingers twitching against hers.

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” I admitted. The words were a raw thing, scraped from the deepest, most fractured part of me. “I thought I was doing the right thing by running, but all I did was bring myself back to him. And now…” I let my head drop back against the cave wall, my eyes squeezing shut. “Now, I fear myself as I once feared him.”

“Verena…”

I looked back at her, let her see the depth of fear in my eyes. I didn’t hide a single trace of it. “They all fear me.” I motioned to the city around us. “And they are right to do so. I am just like him.”

I let the words fall from my lips, the words that I had hidden inside myself and didn’t dare speak.

“How can you say that?” She stepped closer, her warmth seeping into my cold. “I saw what he did to you. I saw you on that chamber floor. I saw the way you fought against everything, against him, against what he wanted to make you.” Her eyes searched mine. “You are nothing like him.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. I didn’t believe her, but I wanted to. Gods, I wanted to.

“I’m a siphon.” I let out a slow, shaky breath.

“I know.” She didn’t tell me I was wrong. She didn’t tell me there was nothing to be afraid of. She just stood before me, solid and unmoving. “And I don’t care what you are. You are my friend, and that is all that matters.”

I let out a slow, shuddering breath and nodded, just once, and she returned the gesture, a flicker of understanding passing between us.

Then, as if sensing I couldn’t take any more, she exhaled sharply and bumped her shoulder against mine. “Come on,” she said, her voice lighter, though the weight of our conversation still lingered between us. “Let’s go find Dacre before he kills someone in your honor.”

A small, startled laugh escaped me. It wasn’t much, but it was real.

This was real.

Wren grinned, looping her arm through mine as we started walking again, her presence grounding me, making it easier to breathe.

The city stretched around us in shadowed tunnels and dimly lit corridors. It was quieter now, the late hour settling over it like a hush, but that tension still lingered in the air, that ever-present watching, that whisper of fear that followed my every step.

But Wren didn’t hesitate as she led me forward, her grip solid on my arm, her steps confident. Like she didn’t care what they thought.

Like she knew where I belonged.

And right now, she was leading me straight to him.

We turned a corner, stepping into a wider street near the underground river, and the moment we did, I heard his voice.

“Whatever you think you know, I promise you, you don’t.” Dacre’s voice was sharp, barely leashed fury crackling in the air around him.

Wren sighed. “I was joking about finding him before he killed someone, but I think I might have been right.”

We picked up our pace, rounding the corner just in time to see Dacre facing off with Eiran. A cold rush of something sharp lurched in my stomach.

I hadn’t seen Eiran since that night in the woods, since the moment I realized he had been using me all along.

He looked the same. The same light brown hair, the same unreadable face, but now, standing before Dacre, I saw him for what he was. A coward.

And Dacre looked ready to tear him apart. His jaw was clenched so tightly I thought his teeth might crack. His hands curled into fists at his sides, knuckles white and straining against his skin.

Wren cleared her throat loudly. “Are we interrupting something?”

Dacre’s gaze snapped to mine, and just like that, the tension in his body shifted. He didn’t say a word. He just moved.

Three long strides and he was in front of me, his hand finding my wrist, his fingers wrapping around it with a grip that was firm but careful. Always careful.

“Are you okay?” His voice was quiet, soft, but still carried that sharp edge of anger, as if he was barely holding himself together.

I swallowed hard, feeling the warmth of his touch seep into my skin. “I’m fine.”

His gaze flicked over me, scanning for any signs of harm, any proof that I wasn’t fine. His hands followed, skimming over my arms, my waist, my ribs. His magic curled against mine, searching, checking.

I wanted to push it away.

And the way he looked at me told me that he knew, but he didn’t stop. He brought my wrist up to his lips, pressing a kiss against my hammering pulse.

“She did well in training.” Wren leaned against the wall, picking at her nails. “Better than she gives herself credit for.”

Dacre’s eyes lingered on mine, searching for answers I didn’t think he’d find, before he nodded. Then, slowly, he turned back toward Eiran, but his hands didn’t leave me.

“We’re done here.”

Eiran’s eyes flashed with annoyance before he hesitated. “Verena…”

“Don’t you dare fucking speak to her.” Dacre’s voice was a whip crack, low and dangerous. “I said we’re done.”

“I just wanted...”

“To what?” Dacre asked, turning to face Eiran again and tucking me behind his body. “Tell her how you wanted to abandon her in that palace with her cruel father? How you didn’t care what happened to her, even if you had been able to hear her screams, you still would have left her there?”

My body went rigid, and I hated how weak I felt, how useless.

Eiran’s face was impassive. But I saw it, the flicker of guilt when my eyes met his. “I am sorry, Verena.”

A deep growl ripped from Dacre’s chest, and Eiran turned before he could say anything else, disappearing into the shadows.

Dacre exhaled sharply, his fingers tightening around my wrist, before he turned and tucked some stray hair behind my ear. I leaned into his touch without thinking.

“Eiran’s a damn creep.” Wren shuddered, crossing her arms. “I’d like to tell him exactly where he can shove his fake apology.”

Dacre’s fingers laced through mine, wrapping around me. “Come with me.”

I didn’t fight him. I didn’t want to.

“Yeah, sure. I’m good. You two go,” Wren said sarcastically, but when I looked back at her, she winked.

“We’ll see you later, Wren.” Dacre didn’t stop; he didn’t slow his steps as he led me forward.

“Yeah, yeah. I guess I’ll go find Kai and give him hell about something.”

I smiled at that as I followed Dacre, but the moment we were alone, my mind reeled. Seeing Eiran again had rattled something loose in me. I hadn’t thought of him in weeks, hadn’t wasted a single breath mourning the friendship I thought we had before he had proven otherwise.

But now I was hit with it all over again, how little he had cared for me, how willing he was to turn me over to Dacre’s father.

How I was nothing more than exactly what they wanted me to be.

Dacre’s hand tightened around mine as we climbed the stairs toward his room. He didn’t slow, didn’t speak, didn’t let go, and the moment the door shut behind us, the tension in his body snapped.

His breath left him in a long, slow exhale, like he had been holding it in since the second I walked onto that street. His shoulders were rigid, his muscles taut beneath his shirt. I could almost see the frenzy of emotions beneath his skin, like dark clouds gathering before a storm.

I could feel his restless magic through our bond.

“You’re angry,” I murmured.

His gaze snapped to mine, and they were so dark, so alive . “Of course I’m angry.”

I stepped closer, placing a hand against his chest, feeling the erratic rise and fall of his breaths beneath my palm. “Because of Eiran?”

“Because of everything,” he admitted, his voice rough and edged with frustration. “Because of him. Because of what they say when they think you’re not listening. Because no matter how many times I tell them, they still don’t understand that you are not a threat to them.”

I let my fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, feeling his warmth beneath it. “I am a threat.”

His jaw tightened, a muscle twitching beneath the skin. “Not to them,” he insisted, his eyes dark with determination.

I shook my head slowly, strands of hair slipping over my shoulders. “I’m a threat to everyone. Even you. Especially you.”

His hands settled on my waist, steadying me. “Not to me,” he murmured, his fingers pressing into my hips with a tenderness that sent a shiver down my spine. His hands were so gentle, so careful.

I lifted my chin and searched his face.

“Stop,” I whispered. I begged.

His brows knitted together in confusion. “Stop what?”

“If you really don’t fear me, then stop treating me like I’m going to break.”

Something flickered in his gaze, a shadow of hesitation, a glimmer of uncertainty.

“Verena…”

I stepped closer, until there was barely any space between us, until I could feel the heat of his body against mine, feel his heart hammering within my own chest.

“Everyone is treating me differently,” I murmured. “Like I’m broken.” My throat tightened. “I don’t want that from you.”

His fingers flexed against me.

“You’ve been through hell.”

“And I’m here with you now.”

His hands shook, and I took the smallest step back, putting a breath of space between us.

“I know what I did.” I looked away from him; I could barely stand to look him in the eye as I said it. My mind was racing, my warring emotions flooding me. I wanted him to reach for me, to stop being so careful with me, but I also wanted him to never touch me again, to never risk what I was capable of again. “I’m scared of myself.” Another step back. “I’m scared to touch you.”

His breath caught, a sharp intake of air that sent a chill down my spine, then he moved so quickly I didn’t have time to stop him. I didn’t have time to think.

His hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around the back of my neck, and he tugged forward until any space I created between us was gone. Then his lips crashed against mine with no hesitation, no caution.

His other hand slid up my back, wrapping around my shoulders as if he could pull me inside him, as if he could undo the distance that had ever existed between us.

I melted into him, pressing closer, gasping as his tongue swept over mine. He swallowed the sound, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, his fingers curling into my hair, tugging just hard enough to make my breath catch.

I could feel him everywhere, his touch, his heat, his unshakable presence grounding me even as he was unraveling me at the same time.

But then his hands were moving, tracing down my back, gripping my waist, guiding me toward the bed.

He didn’t stop kissing me.

I could feel the warmth of his chest against mine and the hardness of his arousal against my stomach, and I whimpered as his teeth grazed over my neck. My entire body was on fire, every nerve alight with need. His hands were everywhere, moving over my skin as if he were trying to memorize the feel of me, igniting sparks of pleasure that coursed through me.

His touch seared my skin; his teeth drew a deep ache low in my belly.

I clung to him, lost in the emotions and sensations that were crashing over me. Every touch brought an intensity that threatened to consume me.

There was only him and me. Nothing or no one outside of those doors mattered at that moment.

Dacre lifted me effortlessly, and I wrapped my legs around his waist as he pressed my back against the wall.

He met my gaze, and the hunger in his eyes matched the fire in my veins. I arched into him, craving more of what he was giving me, more of this feeling that reassured me that I was here with him, that I was no longer alone and desperate for escape.

Dacre’s lips trailed down my neck, his teeth grazing over my skin as he moved lower. A moan escaped my lips as his hands slid under my shirt, the warmth of his touch igniting a wildfire within me. He growled against my skin as his hands kneaded and clutched at me.

I tightened my legs around him, pulling his hips impossibly closer to mine, and his touch became more frantic.

“You drive me insane,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that sent shivers down my spine. One of his hands slid beneath my ass, gripping firmly as he lifted me higher against the cool, hard surface of the wall. His head dipped, and I felt the warmth of his breath against my skin as his lips trailed a languid, reverent path over my stomach. He continued upward, his lips brushing softly over my scarred ribs, lingering with a gentle, almost sacred devotion.

I was utterly consumed, enveloped in a haze that left me helpless against him.

His touch was maddeningly soft yet intoxicatingly intense, sending waves of pleasure through my body. He pushed my shirt up higher. His eyes locked on to mine, desire staring back at me, then, slowly, he ran his tongue over my nipple almost teasingly.

I inhaled sharply, the breath catching in my throat, and before I could exhale, he had already taken my nipple into his mouth.

“Oh gods,” I whispered, my voice a soft plea as I pressed my head back against the wall. My fingers instinctively tangled in his hair, digging my fingertips into his scalp as if anchoring myself as he dragged his teeth over my sensitive flesh.

He moved lower once more, running his lips along my stomach as his hand reached the waistband of my pants.

His fingers, deft yet trembling, untied them with ease before he gently set me back on my feet. Slowly, he slid my pants down my legs, followed by my underwear, leaving me bare before him. My shoulders pressed against the wall, while my shirt remained hitched up, my breasts heaving with every breath I took.

I stood there in a daze, lost in the way he was looking at me, until he fell to his knees before me.

His hands wrapped around the backs of my calves, and he slowly, achingly dragged them up until he reached the backs of my knees.

“The rest of the kingdom will fall to their knees before you, Verena.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss just below my belly button before he stared up at me. “But please allow me to be the first.” Another kiss, this time on my right hip bone. “Allow me to show you how you should be worshipped.” The next kiss was on my left hip bone, and my hips surged forward, desperate for more. “Allow me to show you where I will gladly spend the rest of my days if you let me.”

I sucked in a breath feeling the heat radiating from him as he knelt before me, his hands still clasped around the backs of my knees, his breath warm against my skin.

He pressed another kiss just above my pussy, and I gasped as my fingers tightened in his hair until he groaned.

“Tell me, Verena.” He ran his tongue along the inside of my thigh, his nose skating over my pussy. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you.” My voice was breathless but sure. “I’ve always wanted you.”

His eyes were dark with desire as they met mine, and he didn’t hesitate as he lowered his head and ran his tongue along the length of my pussy. A shudder ran through me as pleasure shot straight to my core, and I dug my nails into his scalp.

“Dacre,” I moaned his name as he rolled his tongue against me.

He tightened one of his hands behind my knee, lifting until he placed it over his shoulder, widening me before him, and I barely had time to adjust before he sucked my clit between his lips.

“Fuck,” I cried out as my leg threatened to buckle beneath me.

He wrapped his hands behind me, gripping my ass, and he pulled me forward until there wasn’t an inch of space between him and my core.

Waves of pleasure washed over me, making me moan and writhe against the wall. I clung onto him for support, my fingers pulling at his hair as he consumed me with his mouth.

I was lost in the way he was touching me, begging him for more, while pushing his head away when I thought I couldn’t handle another moment.

“Please,” I begged breathlessly, desperate for release. “Please let me come.”

He sucked my clit back into his mouth, this time harder, and I clamped my eyes closed as my magic roamed under my skin as desperate for him as I was. It felt reckless, uncontrollably so, and suddenly, I wanted him to stop.

“Dacre, wait.” I pulled at his hair, but he wasn’t listening. “Dacre, my magic.”

He looked up at me, his gaze dark and as out of control as I felt.

“It wants you.” I shook my head trying to explain something I didn’t understand. “I’m scared I’ll take from you again.”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, my arousal still coating his lips.

“Take anything you want, love.” One of his hands snaked around my hip until it pressed against my lower stomach. “Take from me until I have nothing left to give. I am devoted to you. Everything I have is yours to take.”

He pressed hard on my stomach until my ass hit the wall, and I had no room to escape.

“Do you hear me, Verena?” He was watching me so carefully, so intensely. “I am drowning in my want for you, and there is no room inside me for fear. Take from me, touch me. Feed your body with what yearns for you. I would ruin every part of me to give to you.”

I turned my head slightly, looking away from him, from his words.

“Look at me,” he demanded, and I couldn’t deny him. “I am yours, and you are mine. There is nothing beyond that. No fear between the two of us.”

“But…”

He cut me off by leaning forward and nipping at my pussy.

Dacre pressed his lips to my inner thigh again, slower this time, reverent. His breath was warm, his touch firm but gentle, grounding me when I felt like I was unraveling from the inside out. His hands, strong and sure, gripped my hips, holding me steady as his lips traced a slow, agonizing path along my skin.

My magic curled inside me, restless, eager, wanting.

But I was terrified.

It had taken from him before, drained him without my control, without either of our consent. What if it happened again? What if I lost myself in this, in him, and when I came back to my senses, I found him weakened beneath me?

What if I couldn’t stop it?

“Dacre,” I whispered, my fingers tightening in his hair, my chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. “I don’t trust myself.”

His gaze snapped up to mine, dark and wild, his lips still glistening from me. “Then trust me.”

His hands slid higher, pressing into my waist, his fingers flexing as if to remind me that he was here, that he was unshaken. “I have never feared you, Verena. And I never will.” His voice was rough, steady, a vow carved from stone. “You are mine.” His grip on me tightened. “And I will not let you go another second thinking you are anything different.”

I sucked in a sharp breath, my vision blurring for just a moment.

I was shaking as his hands smoothed up my thighs, tracing over my skin like a prayer. He was looking at me like I was something sacred, something holy, and it made me ache to the point of pain.

“I need you,” I whispered, the words tumbling from my lips before I could stop them. “I need you, Dacre.”

His jaw clenched, and his eyes flickered with something raw.

“Then take me,” he murmured. “Take what you need.”

A shiver ran through me, a tremor of fear and want that coiled inside my chest. Without another word, I reached for him, pulling him closer to me, and he didn’t hesitate. He dove back into my flesh like a man starved, and I gasped as he easily brought me back to the brink.

His hands were everywhere, pleasure followed, and I could barely hold myself upright when he slid a finger inside me. He curled it forward slowly before sliding it back out and in again.

“Dacre.”

“Do you like that, Verena.” He pumped his finger into me again before adding a second. “Do you like feeling me inside you?”

I nodded my head, the pleasure rushing through me making me unable to form words.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he growled and pumped his fingers into me harder. “I want to feel you come against my mouth then again around my cock. I want to feel every part of you as I remind you of who you are, of who you belong to.”

Dacre’s words were like fuel to the fire inside me, flaming the desperation that coursed through me. My hips bucked against him as he stretched me with his fingers and flicked his tongue against my clit.

“Please,” I gasped, unable to hold back any longer. “Please, Dacre.”

“Come for me, Verena,” he murmured against my pussy before he pressed his mouth firmer against me, his hand moving quicker.

I couldn’t stop it then, couldn’t control the pleasure or my magic as it raced through me. I fell over the edge as I screamed, and I clung to Dacre as I fell, crying out his name over and over.

“That’s it,” he hummed against me. The vibrations sending jolts of pleasure laced with pain through my body.

He held me tight as I shook against him, waves of pleasure still pulsing through my body. He pressed a soft kiss to my thigh, his hands soothing over my skin as he slowly lowered my leg.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his hands running down the outside of my thighs.

I nodded as I slowly came back to myself and blinked open my eyes.

Black magic filled the room; it surrounded us, and I knew that it was mine. This magic, this chaos, it belonged to me.

“Dacre.” My voice shook as I looked him over, scouring his face to see if I had hurt him.

“You’re incredible.” He groaned before pressing another kiss on my belly and rising to his feet. “I have longed for you since the day they stole you away from me. I have begged the gods to make me strong enough to get you back.”

I moved away from the wall slowly, my body still trembling from the intensity of my orgasm. Dacre reached for me quickly, steadying me, and I gasped as his hands moved over me, devoted and sure.

“I have hungered for you for every moment that I searched for you, and now that you’re here, I will never have enough power to let you go again.” He leaned forward, his lips pressing soft, searing kisses along my collarbones, up my throat, until his breath was hot against my ear.

“It was you,” I whispered. “You are the only thing that kept me alive, the thing I clung to desperately through our bond whether I was imagining it or not. I only had you, and it was the only thing I needed.”

His mouth paused against my skin, his fingers pressing into me.

“I will not be able to be gentle once I’m inside you,” he rasped. “I am weak for you, utterly wrecked, and I cannot be careful with you right now.”

“Then don’t.” My fingers dug into his back, my nails raking down his spine.

A low growl rumbled in his chest, and then his mouth was on mine again, fierce and claiming, and I felt myself give in, felt the last of my walls crumble.

This wasn’t careful.

This was desperate.

This was need, raw and all-consuming.

He didn’t care that my power surrounded us, dark and out of my control, and suddenly, I couldn’t bring myself to either.

Dacre’s hands were everywhere, pressing into me, guiding me, worshipping me in a way I had never known I needed. And gods, I did. I needed this. I needed him.

I arched into him, and he let out a rough breath, his fingers trembling against my skin as he whispered my name like a curse, like a plea.

I needed him inside me, filling me. I needed him more than I had ever needed anything before.

With a deep groan, Dacre lifted me up and carried me to the bed, laying me down across his crumpled sheets. He quickly stripped off his clothes, and I joined him, pulling my shirt the rest of the way off.

Dacre’s breath was ragged as he hovered over me, his gaze raking over my bare skin like a man seeing sunlight after years in the dark. His hands roamed over my ribs, up my sides, tracing every dip, every scar, as if memorizing me all over again.

His fingers trembled slightly, though not from hesitation. From restraint.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he rasped, his lips grazing my jaw, his voice thick with something raw.

I arched against him, the heat between us unbearable. “You do the same to me.”

With a deep growl, he crushed his mouth to mine, the kiss desperate and unrelenting. His hands moved with newfound urgency, pressing into my skin, claiming me in a way that sent a fire through my veins.

His name was a gasp on my lips, a plea and a command all at once. He answered without words, his body aligning with mine, his grip tightening like he feared I might vanish beneath him.

But I wasn’t going anywhere.

I had already been lost once. I had been torn apart, shattered, but Dacre would piece me back together with every whispered vow, every desperate touch, every moment where he refused to give up on me.

I needed this, needed him, to remind me that I was still here. That I was still me.

“Dacre,” I whispered, pressing my forehead against his as he shuddered.

His hands trembled against my skin, his control fraying at the seams.

“I love you.”

My words were a lifeline, anchoring me in a world that had spent my entire existence trying to rip me apart.

His eyes met mine, and they were so dark, so lost in us. “And I love you.”

And then I felt him push inside me, slowly at first, stretching me with every inch until he filled me completely.

The room became filled with our ragged breaths, the sounds of our bodies moving together.The world around us fell away. There was only him. Only us.

The rebellion, the war, the prophecy, it all faded into nothing in that moment. Here, in his arms, I was not a weapon. I was not a pawn in a war of kings and traitors.

I was his.

And he was mine.

He leaned back, settling on his knees between my thighs, and he lifted my hips in his hands as he rolled his own against me over and over.

“So beautiful,” he murmured as his eyes roamed over me and one of his hands found my clit. He rubbed small circles over my sensitive flesh, and I watched as bit by bit his control slipped, and he began moving faster inside me. “So perfect.”

He reached back, lifting one of my legs in his hand, and he pulled it forward until my thigh was pressed against my stomach, opening me wider for him. He kissed my knee as he pushed into me, even deeper than before.

I clung to him, my nails digging in his skin as I tried to pull him closer to me. His name was a mantra on my lips, the only word I could form as the pleasure he gave me clouded my mind.

He gently nudged my leg to the side, skillfully flipping me over onto my stomach as his cock slipped out, leaving me gasping with a soft moan as his hands explored the curves of my ass.

“Hips up, love,” he commanded, with a deep, barely controlled voice, and I obediently lifted myself onto trembling knees, keeping my head and chest pressed against the soft bed, feeling the cool sheets against my face.

I arched my back, pressing myself against him as he ran his lips down my spine. His fingers traced patterns on my skin, lighting up every nerve ending in their wake. And then his touch shifted, becoming more urgent, more desperate.

He gripped my hips, pulling me back against him as he thrust inside me once again. I cried out, reveling in the feel of being completely filled by him.

He set a punishing pace, his hips meeting mine with a force that made the bed shake beneath us. Every movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through me, building and building until I felt like I was going to explode.

But he didn’t stop.

His hands slipped beneath my chest, and he lifted me until I was sitting upon him, and he rolled his hips once more.

Our bodies were slick with sweat. His touch was enough to send me spiraling, my body tensing as pleasure built inside me. He was relentless, his fingers moving back to my pussy and working tirelessly against me, his mouth on my neck in a bruising kiss.

The pleasure was almost unbearable, and I couldn’t stop the moans that spilled from my lips as Dacre pushed me closer and closer to the edge.

I could feel him getting close too, his movements becoming more frantic as he chased his own release.

“You are mine,” he growled against my neck just as his hand came down in a gentle slap against my pussy. “This pussy is mine.”

I nodded frantically, everything that I had was his and his alone.

“Say it, Verena.” He nipped at my neck as he spread his fingers open, spreading me and feeling the spot where his cock slid in and out of me with his hand. “I need your words.”

“I am yours,” I gasped. “Always yours.”

He slammed into me harder this time, and I could no longer control it. I fell over the edge, crying out his name as my pussy clamped down around him.

“Fuck,” he hissed against my skin, thrusting harder and harder until he came inside me with a roar.

My knees gave out beneath me, and we collapsed on the bed, Dacre careful to not let his body crush mine. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, and only the sound of our heavy breathing filled the room.

Dacre’s hand was on my back, gently rubbing circles as he caught his breath. I snuggled closer to him, feeling content for the first time in a very long time.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

I nodded. “I am.”

I buried my face in his shoulder, my chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. His arms tightened around me, his lips pressing against the crown of my head.

“I love you,” he murmured, the words slipping from his lips like a promise. “I don’t care about the prophecy. I don’t care about the kingdom.” He pulled back just enough to cup my face, forcing me to meet his gaze. “You are all that matters.”

I let out a shuddering breath, clinging to him with everything I had, and I kissed him again, hard and desperate, needing him to understand, needing him to feel what I couldn’t put into words.

I had been so fearful, but he was still here. Still whole. Still mine.

And if I was a storm, then he was the one thing unshaken in its wake.

I had spent my entire life running, from my father, from my past, from the power that lived inside me, but not anymore.

I wasn’t running.

I was his.